Father's Day
by elektralyte
Summary: This is a one-shot. Yamcha spends the day with his son. Sappy as all get out!


**Father's Day**

By Elektra

Rated G

They were flying, and flying was his favorite thing to do with his dad. The little boy named Hancha had a smile on his face that was just shy of both madness and joy.

"Fly faster daddy! Come on, we're going too slow!" He shouted.

Yamcha's large hands gripped his son securely as he increased his speed. "Woohooooooo!" the boy crowed loudly.

Yamcha slowed down and started his descent. But before he touched down, he released the boy. Instead of falling, Hancha, bobbed slightly in the air as if held aloft by some invisible cushion.

"You ready to try it on your own?" The large man inquired.

"Yeah, but I can only go this fast, okay?" He made a dog paddle motion. It looked like he was swimming in gelatin instead of air.

The desert bandit laughed at his son's antics. Both Goten and Trunks could fly at near supersonic speeds when they were Hancha's age, but Yamcha didn't care. His son could do something that most of the world's population couldn't do and that was just fine with him.

Yamcha rose into the air a bit and waited for Hancha to catch up. Then he repeated the process by floating a little bit higher. The two of them continued until it became an impromptu game of Marco Polo. Hancha, with eyes closed, would say "Marco!" and Yamcha would flash his ki briefly. Then, he would move towards the direction of the ki and try to tag his dad. They played until they were tired of the game and decided to eat lunch.

The man who once made the desert his home flew them to a shady spot that was near an outcropping of rocks. Considering the time of year, the temperature was perfect for picnicking. He popped open a capsule to reveal a picnic basket with all their favorite foods.

Yamcha praised his wife, Marron, for being the goddess that she was as he and the little guy attacked the food. What a spread it was too! They had cold sandwiches, potato salad, fresh fruit, chips, sodas and a rather large homemade chocolate cake that was demolished in minutes.

'Not bad for a couple of non-saiyans.' He thought as he reclined on the plaid blanket next to his son.

"BUWURRP!"

"Heh, sorry dad."

Startled, Yamcha eyed his son, who returned his look with a sheepish grin that was 100 percent Krillin's. The ex-monk would have been proud.

"Just don't do that around your mom, okay?"

"Uh huh," was all the response he got. They spent the next half-hour looking at clouds and shooting the breeze. Yamcha would occasionally gaze at his son and wonder about how he got lucky so late in his life.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"When will I have scars?"

"WHAT?" He shot back, a bit dumbfounded. Then he amended when he saw his son's startled look. "I mean, why do you ask?"

Hancha hesitated, thinking he may have angered his father. "You have scars, and grandpa has some on his head too. Won't I have to get some too?"

'No,' thought Yamcha, 'only men without fathers have scars.'

Instead he said out loud, "No, you don't have to get one. I got mine fighting and your grandpa's are tattoos from being in a monastery."

"But, don't I have to fight too?"

'Where are these questions coming from?' He thought with amazement. "No, you don't have to fight."

"But, grandpa Roshi was a fighter. And you were a fighter. And grandpa Krillin was a fighter. Even _grandma Eighteen_ was a fighter." He stressed.

"That's true, but we all fought because we had to. Once upon a time there were a lot of bad people in the world. We were just trying to protect the earth and the people we love. Now the world is at peace and we can do other things. So no, you don't have to fight."

Hancha was silent. "Do I have to join a monastery?"

Yamcha chuckled before answering. "No little buddy. Only if that's what you want. Do you want to join a monastery?"

He hesitated before answering. "I don't think so. Do you think grandpa will mind?"

"Nope. I think your grandpa would be very happy to hear you're not joining a monastery."

"Do I have to be a baseball player?"

"No. You can be whatever you want." He mentally added, 'As long as it's legal.'

Pondering this for a moment, Hancha then asked, "Can I be a blue cat that changes into other things?"

"Nope. Because then you'd be Pu'ar, and one Pu'ar is enough as it is." Yamcha answered patiently.

"Oh. Okay."

Thinking it was time to start heading home, Yamcha began to pack the picnic items away in the basket. He spotted what looked like a note at the bottom of the basket and opened it up. It read:

_Hi Sweetpotato,_

_I hope you and Hancha are having a blast! I'm taking dad to lunch at his favorite restaurant. Hooray for me! You know something Yams? For someone who never thought they'd get to be a dad, you sure are a good one. I thought you'd like to know that._

_Love,_

_Mar_

_PS – Please remind my 'small, wonderful' not to forget. Thanx! Oh yeah, this note will self-destruct in five seconds!_

Yamcha laughed as he stuck the note in his pocket. 'Marron is such an oddball sometimes.' He mused. 'It's what happens when you grow up on a small island.'

He then cleared his throat and announced, "Small-Wonderful. Your mother informs me that you are not to forget."

Hancha gave his father a blank look that, minus the chill factor, it was 100 percent Eighteen's. The android would have been proud. Then, the tiny light bulb in his head came on and the little boy pulled something out of his pocket.

He shyly handed his father a wadded up tissue. Yamcha frowned for a moment, then unwrapped the tissue. Among the shreds was a small, flat, crudely shaped clay heart attached to a leather thong. A small picture was shellacked to its surface. He stared at the tiny mother-son portrait before tying the present reverently around his neck. Then he gathered his son in his arms and hugged him tightly.

"Happy Father's day, daddy." His little boy whispered. "Do you like it?"

"Uh huh," He quietly choked out, blinking back a small tear.

And the man who couldn't remember his own father, and who never imagined being a father himself whispered back, "Thank you, son."

The end.

_Disclaimer: This story is meant for enjoyment only. No money is made from this and no infringement is intended against the owners of DB/Z/GT and it's properties. Hancha is a creation of Kinomi and I thank her for allowing me to write about him._


End file.
